Meeting Boring
by fakeasain56
Summary: A case brings Sherlock and John out into the middle of nowhere in Ohio in America, to meet a child that fascinates one of the world's smartest men: Calvin.
1. Chapter 1

The very first thing John noticed about the house was the line of snowmen in front of it. They were standing in a row beside the walkway. They were strangling each other.

John stared at the snowmen, before his gaze went back to Sherlock, standing in the cold with an odd look on his face. "Who did you say lived here?"

"The witnesses only refereed him to Calvin, but apparently he was the last to see Miss Malone alive."

"Right." John stared for a moment longer at the snowmen lining the way. A large ball of snow slowly rounded the corner, a kid in a jacket pushing and shoving it along. Sherlock straightened.

"That would be him I'm guessing."

The kid stopped, and panted for breath as he whipped away sweat forming on his brow. He then turned to the side, and scowled. "HOBBES! YOU LAZY FURBALL!"

The kid vanished around the corner of the house, and Sherlock followed. John came right behind, wondering morosely if he had made a mistake in following Sherlock across the pond. "Sherlock-"

"What do you mean you were resetting the signs Hobbes, I was very careful about spelling those. No, I am not going to ask for more tuna fish sandwiches!"

John looked across the yard to where the kid was standing next to a circle of snowmen. Each of the snowmen were holding protest signs demanding for a bigger allowance, pushed back bed-time, and more scary movies. There was also a stuffed tiger with a scarf wrapped around its neck, sitting at the bottom of one of the snowmen.

Sherlock's eyebrows rose. "How droll, a stuffed animal?"

The kid turned at that, frowning slightly as he reached down to pick up the tiger. It was as big as he was, but the kids eyes were sharp as he snapped back, "I suppose you think I'm projecting my inner turmoil upon an inanimate object and escaping my personal troubles? Well, wrong. I've got TV for that."

John missed the spark in Sherlock's eyes, a spark that would've made him groan.

Sherlock took a step forward, pointing a finger at the tiger. John blinked once, and for a single moment saw a tall form, easily six feet tall, orange fur bright in the light and black eyes glinting in amusement.

Sherlock's voice chased away the illusion as quickly as it had come. "And how else do you explain talking to him like he was a living creature?"

The kid's lip curled in an expression of disdain John had seen before in Sherlock. "Easy, it's a lot less boring then talking to _you_! Come on Hobbes, let's go."

_I think we fell into the past and found a min-Sherlock. Poor Lestrade is going to pass out in horror if he ever hears about this. _

Calvin marched past carrying Hobbes, and John smiled as he held up a hand. "Calvin and Hobbes is it?"

Sherlock was spluttering something in the background. Calvin grinned as he puffed out his chest. "I'm Calvin yes."

"I just had a few questions about-"

A look of pure terror crossed Calvin's face. "I didn't do it! The noodles weren't my idea! You can't prove anything!"

"Noodles?" John confusedly turned to look at Sherlock, who seemed to of finally snapped out of his stupor of having one of his favorite insults turned on him.

By the time he turned around, Calvin was halfway down the street, Hobbes streaming out behind him, still looking positively terrified. John groaned as he said, "We're going have to track him down."

"Easy. Just follow his sneaker prints."

Sherlock pointed at the size nine sneaker treads. John's eyes were caught on something much, much different- for right next to those sneaker prints were the distinctive prints of a tiger.

* * *

><p>Calvin huddled behind the tree, worriedly chewing on his gloves. Beside him, Hobbes peered out around the trunk, scanning for any sign of the two men. "Aurgh, I can't believe the principal actually hired the police to prove that I was the one who did the Noodle incident! Oh crap, Mom's going to kill me!"<p>

"Your mom is going to kill you when she realizes you crashed the toboggan into her rose bush."

"It was a stupid place to put a rose bush anyways." Calvin grumbled, digging into his pockets. "Got an extra dollar? We can catch a bus to the city and live on the streets until it all blows over."

Hobbes looked at him. "Naked, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Calvin sighed in sorrow, collapsing into a sitting position. "You got it lucky."

Hobbes crouched down next to Calvin, staring at him, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Run away and join the circus I suppose-"

"Calvin?" The female voice broke into the twos' conspiratorial whispering. Calvin shrieked in panic, heart hammering a mile per minute.

"S-Susie! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"You're not trying to throw a snowball at me again are you? I'm warning you-" Susie shook her fist at Calvin's face. Hobbes snickered in the background. Calvin would've glowered at the tiger, if he weren't so busy attempting to placate Susie.

"No, no, they came to task about the noodle incident! Wait- you can tell them I didn't do it!"

"It was you, you little brat! There were fire trucks everywhere!"

"I DIDN'T DO IT! AND YOU CAN'T PROVE OTHERWISE!" Calvin protested, waving a fist in the air.

Susie glowered at him for a moment longer, before sighing. "The therapist came again today didn't she?" Calvin's parents were trying to understand Calvin just a little better- it was something Susie could approve of if he stopped looking so miserable every time the Therapist left (except when the therapist left screaming).

"No. The therapist hasn't showed up at all today." Calvin grinned cheerfully, a evil sort of grin which meant that the Therapist had tried coming around, but gotten chased off with snowballs.

"Your aim is improving isn't it. I'm warning you, one snowball and you're dead meat dofus."

"Hmph, don't see why I bother with you anyways. Me and Hobbes have better things to do." The nine-year-old reached for the tiger's paw, before completely freezing up.

Susie turned to follow his line of sight- there were two men standing there. One of them was a short man with sandy blond hair and a slight limp. The other was a taller man with curly dark hair. "Them? They don't look very threatening."

There was no answer, and Susie groaned, hiding her fact in her gloves. Calvin had probably already run off, carrying Hobbes along with him. She took a deep breath, and rolled her shoulders back to look at the men directly. Neither noticed her, the taller man leading the way, staring at the various footprints scattered around. "Are you Calvin's newest therapists?"

The taller man blinked as he looked up, gray eyes evaluating her. The shorter man smiled. "No, we're not. We wanted to ask him a few questions about Miss Malone."

"Isn't that the old lady he ran through her backyard naked?"

The short one began coughing into his fist. The taller one drew himself up even further. "Why naked?"

Susie shrugged. "Something about attaching himself to a kite and flying."

The coughing was growing worse. Susie stared at the two of them for a moment longer. "So you're not here to take Calvin away?"

"No."

"Pity." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

* * *

><p>Sherlock watched the girl go, her small form quickly disappearing from view. John's laughing fit subsided behind him, as he calmly analyzed her; she was, by all accounts, normal. Two parents, a happy home life, a few favorite stuffed toys she still slept with and played with, and a slight crush on the boy named Calvin.<p>

"Calvin seems to be an interesting character, doesn't he?"

"Hmm, yes." Already Sherlock was piecing together various bits and pieces that he had to create a picture of the child. He was six- smarter then the average human. Offset by an overactive imagination. Probably because of his as of yet undeveloped brain.

"He's heading for the forest. If he manages to get inside, then we'll loose him." Sherlock stared at the tracks for a moment longer.

John grimaced at the thought of wandering through the forest. Sherlock knew he would be- Judging by the length of the strides, John's leg was giving him troubles yet again. "Let us go back to the house. We'll pose as a new therapist."

"Is that really a good idea?"

"Do you want to go running through the woods looking for him? The layout of the woods suggest there are cliffs."

"And his parents let him run through there?"

"I doubt they can stop him." Sherlock sniffed the air, calculating how long it took for a normal six year old child to grow cold and weary. "He ought to return home in another two hours."

It was actually three hours. Three very, very long hours of attempting to make small talk with the stay-at-home mother, part time writer judging by her hands. She favored the old-fashioned typewriter, though she had a computer that she used for everything else.

There was mud and dirt tracked in, and a few smudges of bike grease. Obviously the husband. A health nut then, while the wife liked staying in more often then not.

But John took care of annoying social conventions, occasionally prompting him to join in with a kick to the foot, until Sherlock suddenly smiled. "May I see Calvin's bedroom?"

The two looked at each other. "Do you think that's wise dear?"

"He was up last night attempting to make a bedsheets ladder because of monsters under the bed." The mom murmured back, "Plus he completely trashed the room earlier. It's better to-"

"MOM I'M HOME! WHERE'S MY HOT CHOCOLATE! AND MY BLANKET- IS THERE A FIRE IN THE FIRE PLACE?" Calvin's roar blasted through the house. A slow smile curved the very tips of Sherlock's mouth as he stood, cot whirling around him dramatically.

"Ah, Calvin."

The child froze in the doorway, eyes going wide. The jacket was gone, and the Tiger only had snow caked along the feet as if it had been walking.

John's breath sucked in behind him for a moment, and Sherlock turned slightly. John was staring at the stuffed toy, mouth a thin, tight line. "Calvin. Let's _talk_ shall we? Your room?"

Calvin began moving before Sherlock could count to three. In half a second he darted away from the living room, heading straight for the stairs. Sherlock snorted in amusement, and trotted after the child.

John followed, as he was wont to do.

Calvin appeared at the head of the stairs, a military hat covered in fake camouflage pulled low across his eyes, and brandishing a fake gun. It was quite obviously, clearly fake- it didn't explain why John's hand clamped around the back of his shirt, forcibly pulling him back behind the shorter man in what could only be classified as a protective stance.

The rubber bullet that was vaguely shaped like a plunger essayed forth into the air to hit John directly square in the chest.

* * *

><p><em>Spaceman Spiff ducked into the cave, panting furiously as he dodged the horrible clutches of the wozbangers! Beside him his trusty assistant peeked around the corner. "I think they're gone!"<em>

"YOU ARE IN FOR A WORLD OF TROUBLE YOUNG MAN! GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY!"

_Curses! The aliens seemed not to be affected by his laser gun. Spaceman Spiff desperately revved up his engine-_

"Quick, he's trying to get out the window! Stop him before he freezes to death!"

_Foiled again! Spaceman Spiff froze in horror as the largest, ugliest alien of them all stopped dead at the sight of his earlier vehicle crashed among the rock formation. Beside him his assistant covered his eyes in all too poetic form of sorrow._

"CALVIN! MY ROSES! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ROSES!"

"I merely rearranged them into a much more… erm…. Aesthetically pleasing and moral guiding directions!" Clavin protested weakly, still frozen in the act of attempting to jump out the window with a bed sheet as a parachute. "You know how modern art is these days, morally ambiguous and everything."

"That does not excuse my rose garden! Do you have any idea how long it will take to undo this damage?" Mom glowered at him, and the door behind him shuddered under the weight of Dad knocking.

He stood balanced on the edge and cusp of a decision. Then he jumped.

-


	2. Chapter 2

The crackling fire soothed two injured people's ills. Another two (one distinctly nonhuman) watched the two in exasperation.

Calvin sniffled, huddling further in his blanket, cold hands curled around the mug of hot cocoa. Beside him, Sherlock gingerly touched his side where a good-sized bruise was forming. "You jumped." Disbelief was heavy in that voice.

Calvin mumbled something softly. "I thought you were here about the noodle incident."

Sherlock snorted, and John sighed. "How very boring. No, we came about Miss Malcone."

"Who?"

It was the stuffed tiger that replied, making John jump slightly. "The old bird we ran through her backyard naked while strapped to a kite. Remember the birdbath?"

"Oh yeah. Heh-he-he…" Calvin put on his best, _I-didn't-do-Anything_ smile, and widened his eyes into the best puppy-dog/bambi look possible. It didn't work very well, and John shifted uncomfortably as the tiger next to him began laughing. "I apologized for that."

Somehow John doubted that the apology was _anything_ like Miss Malcone expected.

"A letter or something equally boring?"

"I tried to tell mom and dad that if they would rent me a flame thrower I'd make her the best sorry letter ever! But nooo!" Calvin rolled his eyes and threw up his hands, before once again scrunching down into a snarl. "And they wonder why their polls are down."

"Polls?"

"Political polls." John barely managed to keep from flinching as Hobbes spoke up once more. "You should see them some time. I help draw the graphs."

Calvin stood, trailing wet footprints to the bookcase, before pulling out a clipboard. Written on it in scrawled, messy handwriting were various things observed, and a graph written in slightly neater handwriting. "See? Dad's popularity polls have been going down recently. They refuse to get any more tuna fish for Hobbes."

"If you want tuna fish-" Sherlock began, when Calvin cheerfully interrupted.

"I don't like Tuna Fish." The completely point-blank reply wasn't a lie. Even John could tell that. John glanced from between the staring Sherlock, the happily sipping cocoa Calvin, and the tiger with a few drops of hot chocolate on his whiskers. Wait-

The cup in Hobbes paws was completely drained.

John hid his face in his hands, and counted to ten. Then to twenty.

Finally feeling human enough to join the conversation, he looked up to find that Sherlock and Calvin both had disappeared, leaving him alone with Hobbes. "You drank that cocoa."

"Of course. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste."

"You're a tiger."_ A stuffed tiger_ lingered on his lips, oddly unspoken.

"Correct, a proud member of the species." Hobbes struck a pose, brushing a paw across fur in an attempt to smooth it down. "Fierce man eater, and solver of math problems at your service."

"Man eater?"

"Girls are too cute to eat of course." Hobbes smirked, and John laughed. It was absolutely crazy to hear the sentiment out of a tiger… but at the same time it felt so _right._

"So you're hanging around Calvin then."

"To be more precise, he caught me in his trap and his parents make too good of tuna fish sandwiches to pass up. Well, there was that one point with those dogs…" Hobbes trailed off, frowning slightly at the bad memories. "Anyways, Susie found me after that and Mr. Buns is a nice rabbit to talk too."

"Mister-" John cut himself off before he could ask. "Nevermind."

Sherlock's voice suddenly rose, yelling and shouting. John rose to his feet, but was stopped by a paw to his arm. Hobbes was languidly stretching out, and he grinned lazily, "Don't worry; Calvin's just gotten on his costume."

John grinned, wondering what sort of costume it would be. Judging by Sherlock's sharp, irritable tone, some pop culture reference that the self-proclaimed sociopath wouldn't recognize.

"STUPENDOUS MAN WILL SAVE THE DAY!" A yellow clad figure came bounding towards the stairs. John grinned, and nodded at Hobbes, who nodded back, completely missing Sherlock's confused look before the man turned back to the hyperactive child.

"Would you please stop this annoying habit of dropping into fantasy?" Sherlock demanded coldly, "You're a lot less boring then most-"

High compliments… Too bad Calvin didn't care one whit about those compliments. "STUPENDOUS MAN TAKES TO THE AIR IN A FLYING LEAP!"

John looked up with terrified eyes as Calvin, at the head of the stairs, _jumped off_ arms outstretched like a comic book hero in flight. Hobbes snorted as he rolled over, and the short man bolted from his comfortable place by the fire place, arms outstretched to catch the kid.

Said kid had a rather powerful jump, and would've only hit the middle of the stairs if John hadn't been there to catch him.

"Oof!"

"Gwark!" Calvin flailed as his cloak wrapped around his throat, choking off his air supply. John dragged away the cloak, practically shaking the child.

"Do you have no sense at all? You keep trying to jump off of things-"

"Oh, you should see him come summer time, we go over the cliffs like lemmings on his wagon." Hobbes offered from the fireplace.

Sherlock swept down from wherever he had been hiding, looking directly at Calvin. "Calvin, I need that information."

"I'm not Calvin- I'm STUPEN-"

"This foolish, stupid charade will come to a close here." Sherlock snapped, pale eyes burning in fury. "I do not wish to be subject to your fantasies any longer."

The upraised fist slowly sank, Calvin staring directly at Sherlock with dead eyes. His shoulders slumped. "Oh." His voice was incredibly small, like he was trying not to cry. "Fine. Let me go get my toboggan."

* * *

><p>The toboggan was dragged behind Calvin as they hiked up the steep hillside. The pure white snow stretched for what looked for miles. The brambly forest stood out in dark contrast to the snow, off to the right. Calvin stopped at the top of the hill, resting the toboggan at the top.<p>

"Here, sit here, would you."

Sherlock, surprisingly quiet throughout the entire thing, glared at him. Calvin glared back. "It's too get in the mood, alright? It was awhile ago. Just lay down on it, would you?"

It took a bit of shuffling, but Sherlock managed to fit quite nicely on the toboggan. Hobbes was snickering in the background, and John felt unease creep into his gut. Why?

"It was on a day a lot like this. Notice how quiet it is. It's like there's nothing for miles. It's so peaceful and silent, like the world is on pause." Calvin smiled as he stared up in the air, the muffled silence around them.

Sherlock seemed to agree.

John looked to where Hobbes was howling with laughter, pounding at the snow.

Both of them missed Calvin's foot snapping out to give the toboggan a gentle push. Sherlock did not miss gravity clutching onto him, nor did John miss Sherlock's surprised, undignified screech as the toboggan went careening down the hillside.

Calvin smirked. "I hate all that silence."

Hobbes was practically rolling around in delight, his howls of laughter filling the air.

"C'mon Hobbes. He'll land in Miss Malone's backyard. I saw her earlier today peeking out of the window, so even if he does land in her marigolds he'll be fine." Calvin spoke airly; completely unconcerned to the fate of his toboggan. "All we have to do now is convince Santa to bring me a new toboggan."

Wait. Miss Malone had been_ dead_ for the past two days. Unless… it wasn't Miss Malone.

"SHERLOCK!" John bounded down the hill towards the crashed and crumpled figure of his friend, dizzily staring up at the sky.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Calvin and Hobbes giving each other high-fives and running off towards the house.

Within minutes, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were breaking into the house of Miss Malone.

* * *

><p>Calvin whistled happily as he lugged the big cardboard box up the stairs. When he had found the box, it had been filled to the brim with the stupidest things. Stuffed toys, fat books without enough pictures, some psychobabble written on paper-<p>

He dumped it out in the middle of the living room, and went upstairs with the real prize: The cardboard box.

"HOBBES! LOOK WHAT I GOT!"

"Playing classical music at 75 rpm again Calvin?" Hobbes grumbled sarcastically from the bed, nose buried in a comic book.

"Hmm, no- We got ourselves a new time machine! Mom threw out the old one." Calvin dug out a black marker from the closet. "Good thing too, it was getting holey."

"Yes, have you seen this newest comic? Wonder Woman-"

"Stop being a sissy and get over here." Calvin snapped back as he wrote the words _Time Machine_ in big, scrawling letters along the side. "I got our goggles."

"CALVIN!"

"Quick! Before mom gets here!"

"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE YOUNG MAN!"

Hobbes leapt into the box, strapping on the goggles. "Which time period-"

"Any! Hang on tight Hobbes!"

* * *

><p>John grinned as he sipped at the warm, Styrofoam cup of coffee, Sherlock fuming beside him. "Did you see that John! I was attempting to determine his psyche, see what would draw him, but he took the cardboard box! The box! He ignored everything and just took the box!"<p>

"What would you have taken then?"

"Obviously the book on criminal psychology. That is what I took when Mummy gave me the same box."

"Oh? It's a tradition then?"

"Yes, at the age of eight we get the box. Mycroft chose politics." Sherlock snapped back. "Nobody has ever taken the _box_. What happened to my data?"

"Imagination," John murmured into his cup. "Imagination is what he has."

There was a loud crash, and a surprised screech.

Sherlock snorted, "Honestly John, that's so _boring_. What good does imagination do?"

"Well… It shoved you off the hill into the solution for our so-called murder, didn't it?" John murmured back.

Sherlock's scowl grew even blacker. "Come John, let us go. We have important work to be done."

John translated it to roughly, _The little brat reminds me of myself and I don't like it._

"Alright."

He did text Mycroft about the boy with the wild imagination; and if Calvin's parents complaints that they were being watched by the government was true… well, there was no need for them to know, now was there?

-End-


End file.
